


Second Temptation

by HipHopAnonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dark Crowley (Good Omens), Darker Demonic Crawly, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forgiveness, Guilt, Light Bondage, Other, Rape, Rape Aftermath, Regret, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), at least at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous
Summary: Feeling overly confident after successfully tempting Eve to eat the apple, Crawly sets his eyes on another forbidden fruit. If tempting a human would put him in Hell's good graces, then surely tempting anangelwould be even better. The naive, hedonistic angel should be a snap to tempt into a bit of fornication. The humans seemed to enjoy it so much, after all. However, Aziraphale is more reluctant than expected, and Crawly gets carried away.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 289
Collections: Dark Crowley, O Lord Heal This Gift Exchange





	Second Temptation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UnproblematicMe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnproblematicMe/gifts).



> The prompt request was broad for an Aziraphale/Crowley non/dubcon scenario. I can definitely imagine very early Crawly in the garden still being a bit more demonic/evil, and Aziraphale is just some angel stranger to him at first. So I ran with that idea!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, UnproblematicMe! <3

“Did you watch them, Angel? After they ate the apple?”

Crawly was standing so _close_ to the angel. He could smell him, the fresh scent of stars and clouds and heaven still strong on him. The white feathers overhead brushed against Crawly’s hair. He leaned in, pressing his shoulder against the angel’s. He tensed for a reaction, fully expecting a rebuff. But none came, and Crawly couldn’t help but grin. _Fascinating._

“Aziraphale,” the angel offered.

Crawly blinked his yellow eyes slowly at him.

“My name,” Aziraphale clarified. He was distracted, still wringing his hands and staring out into the wasteland after the human outcasts. “Sorry, but what were you saying?”

“Right, er, Aziraphale, did you see what they were doing in the garden?” he tilted his head towards the human couple. “How she got to be … _expecting_?”

The other angels guarding the gates to Eden had threatened Crawly, waved their weapons, and even sent a smite or two his way. But not _this_ one. This one spoke to him kindly, and then shielded him from the rain with one lily-white wing and now had given his _name_.

It would be so _easy_ , wouldn’t it? Another temptation. Another success. Another notch on his Hellish tally so soon after the first. Crawly was feeling confident. The whole apple business had been a success, really, despite any lingering doubts he may have voiced to Aziraphale. It had put a real swagger in his slither.

“Oh, _that_ ,” the angel blushed, and Crawly’s yellow eyes sparkled. “Yes. Very … strange, wasn’t it?”

Aziraphale wasn’t beautiful, per se, but he was soft and innocent. And stupid. There would be something delightfully wicked about it. He had given his flaming sword away, the naive idiot, leaving him unprotected. Crawly licked his lips and gave Aziraphale a sideways glance. His alabaster hair was like a perfectly swirled dollop of sweet cream, his skin as pale and smooth as a ripe, unblemished peach. Crawly wanted to stick his finger into that smooth cream and ruin it, to take a huge bite out of that sweet, juicy peach.

“Welllll,” Crawly said, drawing the vowel out in falsetto, “I dunno.” He shrugged. “Looked kinda interesting to me. They really seemed to be enjoying themselves.”

Demons were creatures of corruption, and Crawly was straight out of Hell, the urge to desecrate still flowing strongly through his veins. An invisible string tugged at his belly, compelling him to consume, to swallow the angel whole and then spit him back out defiled. The angel’s radiant innocence practically begged to be tainted.

“I suppose,” Aziraphale said, shifting his weight, eyes darting around, becoming even more fidgety.

Nobody downstairs had said angels were off limits, _technically_. However, getting tossed out of Heaven into a burning pit of sulphur sure made it seem that way. Angels were much like forbidden fruit themselves - a big, tantalizing “don’t touch” sign making them all the more appealing.

Crawly had been given explicit instructions to tempt the _humans_ to corruption, to secure souls for Hell, but surely a bit of _extra credit_ would be appreciated. If convincing a human to do the _wrong thing_ was his goal, then surely convincing an _angel_ to do so was even better. An expert level temptation. He could hear the praise now, could almost see the shocked, jealous look on Hastur’s ugly face. Was it still possible to make an angel fall? Crawly was giddy at the possibilities.

He had seen Aziraphale watching the humans copulate, and the angel was certainly _interested._ Crawly had to admit that it _was_ very interesting. Sex was brand new. Angels and Demons, being of different matter, had far less fleshy, sweaty ways of showing love, but there was something wildly engrossing about this new, physical act the humans enjoyed so much. Crawly was sure if he and the angel made an effort, they could partake, as well.

Conveniently, almost as soon as Crawly had witnessed Adam and Even _fucking_ he seemed to know everything there was to know about it; as if the information had been transmitted directly into his brain. Did it work the same way for Aziraphale? Did he know all of _that_ , too? Or was it solely a demonic perk?

“Of course, I didn’t get that close of a look, really,” Crawly lied, feigning only lukewarm interest, “but they did something with their lips, didn’t they? Put them against each other?”

“Uh huh …” Aziraphale licked his own lips.

Crawly was _so close_ to him. He turned his head, warm breath against Aziraphale’s ear.

“Would you like to try it?”

Aziraphale’s eyes flicked briefly to Crawly’s lips, and Crawly took that as an invitation. He leaned in and ever so gently brushed his lips against Aziraphale’s, cautiously testing the waters. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the angel away. Not yet. It was too soon to scare him. One must lure one’s prey carefully at first, have it firmly in one’s grasp before it realizes it’s caught. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut and he opened his mouth, permitting Crawly to deepen the kiss.

Crawly’s heart soared at his success. He had been right. Tempting this angel would be a real feather in his wing. He knew a glutton when he saw one, when he _tasted_ one. Angels didn’t need to eat, but that sure hadn’t stopped Aziraphale. Crawly had spied the angel shoveling a wide variety of juicy fruit into his mouth, licking his fingers clean in a most sinful and alluring way. The angel ate as though he was inventing hedonism, reveling in every morsel, basking in the flavors. Crawly wondered if that was why Aziraphale’s mouth tasted so sweet.

The angel was clearly drawn to pleasure. And there was so much pleasure in kissing. Crawly was happy to find that kissing felt _good_. Crawly nipped at Aziraphale’s bottom lip and then licked inside his mouth, feeling a spark of desire when their tongues met. The stirring in his belly that had been faint at first grew stronger and his groin tingled, revealing an eagerness that went beyond merely fulfilling some demonic wile. There was no harm in finding pleasure in temptation, surely. Crawly kissed more insistently and he reached a hand up to cup the back of Aziraphale’s neck.

That did it. The angel pulled away with a gasp.

“Oh, goodness,” he said, looking scandalized. “Perhaps we shouldn’t. It got _them_ in a lot of trouble, after all.” It was a weak protest at best, the words coming out all breathless, his face flushed.

“But they’re different from us!” Crawly blurted out in frustration, immediately cursing himself for the inelegant retort.

“Even so,” Aziraphale said, sniffing and needlessly adjusting his robe.

Crawly quickly regained his composure. The game wasn’t lost yet. Aziraphale had clearly enjoyed the kiss, had so easily given into that little bit of temptation. It wouldn’t be difficult to nudge him toward even more pleasure, surely.

“Sorry, you’re right,” Crawly said, taking a couple steps away from from Aziraphale. The angel was keeping his wings to himself now, tucked neatly inside some celestial pocket, hidden from view. Crawly followed suit so they'd match, both wingless and more human looking than before. All the better to partake in _human_ things.

Crawly racked his brains for the next best move, cycling through everything he’d seen the angel do in the garden. _Come on, think of something, you useless demon!_ An image, a memory, suddenly flashed in his mind and he grinned. Then Crawly very carefully and casually said, “Could I show you something? In the garden.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow. “Oh, I don’t know …”

“It’s that spiky plant. I bet you haven’t figured out how to eat the fruit inside. It’s sweeter than anything else in there, I guarantee it.”

The fruit was a pineapple. Crawly had chortled to himself while watching Aziraphale try to touch one. The angel had pricked his finger and then given up, clearly assuming the things weren’t for consumption. He’d moved on to something simpler, the dark berries he could pluck easily from the branches and pop into his mouth.

Aziraphale was wrong about the pineapples. Crawly, curious, had sliced one open and tasted the yellow fruit inside. It was too sweet for him, of course; even more so than the strawberries had been, saccharine to the point of being unpleasant. The angel would love it, though.

Aziraphale waffled for a moment before relenting, “Oh, all right. Lead the way.”

Crawly tried to contain his excitement, biting his cheek to stop from grinning like an idiot as he led Aziraphale into the garden. The rain had blessedly stopped, but the moisture made the garden warm and steamy.

They came to a small grove of pineapples and Crawly picked one up, using a burst of demonic power to cleave it in half and then carve out a few chunks of the yellow fruit. He held one up to Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Try it.”

Crawly’s eyes never left the angel’s pink little tongue darting out to lick. Aziraphale’s eyes lit up.

“Oh!”

He took a large bite, closing his eyes and making an appreciative moan as he chewed. He eagerly took the second piece that Crawly offered him, wet lips grazing over Crawly’s fingers, sending a jolt of pleasure down the demon’s spine.

“Oh, you’re right. I had no idea this was inside those spiky balls! Scrumptious!”

Juice was running down Aziraphale’s chin. Crawly licked his lips and ever so cautiously wiped the liquid from the angel’s face with his thumb.

“You, ah, had a little something there,” he said with a wink.

“Oh,” Aziraphale blushed, eyes smiling. “Thank you, my dear.”

 _My dear._ Crawly knew an in when he heard one. He leaned forward and kissed the angel again. He kept it chaste. _For now._ Just a soft, closed mouth peck and then he pulled back. Aziraphale didn’t protest. In fact, the angel’s lips parted with a little gasp, his cheeks pink, his eyes half closed.

Crawly took his response as an invitation and kissed him again, this time pressing his tongue gently into Aziraphale’s mouth. The angel kissed back. Crawly carefully placed his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders and kept kissing, distracting with his mouth while he slid his hands around to Aziraphale’s back. He moved his lips to the angel’s cheeks, trailing kisses down his face, beneath his chin, nibbling on his neck.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, knees going weak in Crawly’s embrace.

Crawly kept at Aziraphale’s throat with his tongue, guiding him backwards until his back bumped up against a large tree. Aziraphale startled a bit at that, but Crawly nibbled on his ear which made him moan and forget it. He wrapped his arms around Azirphale’s waist, surreptitiously tugging his robe up to his thighs, then worked a knee between his legs. He went back to Aziraphale’s mouth, distracting the angel with his tongue and then began to slowly grind against the angel’s hip.

His groin was tingling with pressure, and he leaned into the sensation, concentrating, and then there it was. An appendage just like Adam’s. Blood flowed quickly into it, the urge to rub and thrust spiking at once.

“Oh!” Aziraphale had noticed. “Oh my …”

Crawly drew back and assessed his target. Aziraphale’s cheeks were quite pink, his lips shiny and wet, eyes glassy, chest heaving softly. He looked down at where Crawly’s robe was tented.

“You have a … ” Aziraphale struggle to swallow. “... like Adam’s.”

“Yeah,” Crawly husked, leaning forward to kiss him.

Aziraphale kissed him back and brought his hands up to grip Crawly’s shoulders. _Yes!_ They breathed heavily into each other’s mouths, tongues exploring in the humid air. Crawly put his hand on Aziraphale’s thigh and then slowly moved it up between his legs.

“Oh, it feels - ” Aziraphale said. “It’s all … _tingly_. It’s so strange, Crawly.”

“Lean into it, ride out the feeling. You should really make one, it feels _great._ ”

Aziraphale whimpered, shuddering as he rested his head against Crawly’s shoulder. Crawly pressed his fingers harder against the fabric of Aziraphale’s robe. Something was there, soft and _damp._ Aziraphale made a high pitched warble as Crawly rubbed firmly at it.

“Like Eve’s,” Crawly said, raising his eyebrows. _Unexpected._ But he could most definitely work with it.

He rubbed and kissed until Aziraphale’s knees became wobbly enough for him to allow Crawly to guide him down onto the ground, both of them sitting face to face. Crawly tugged at the hem of Aziraphale’s robe.

“Let me see,” he asked, giving a curious, faux-innocent look.

“I don’t know …” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Crawly blurted before the angel could start to doubt too much.

He lifted his own black gown slowly, playing at coyness, finally revealing the erection pressed against his flat stomach. Aziraphale stared, eyes very wide.

“Now let’s see yours, all right? I’m just curious …”

“Oh, um …” Aziraphale shook his head, clearly coming out of his stupor. His face reddened and he looked awkwardly away. He shifted in clear discomfort, pushing his robe back down instead of up. “I don’t think I should. We should probably stop this. I’m quite sure it isn’t allowed.”

“Awww, come on, Angel,” Crawly said, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Aziraphale made a small sound of protest, but Crawly nipped at his bottom lip which was clearly enough of a distraction to push him down, lift his robe, and grope him between the legs. Crawly found squishy, slick, hot skin there, and his fingers were quickly coated in the warm liquid as he ran them down the cleft in the middle.

“D-Don’t!” Aziraphale slammed his thighs shut, trapping Crawly’s hand between them, and then pushed against the demon’s chest. _Damn._ Well, Eve hadn’t been easy either, not at first, but Crawly had convinced _her._ He could convince this angel, as well.

His deft fingers found the stiff little skin-hooded bump at the top of Aziraphale’s brand new cunt, and the angel twitched beneath him, gasping at first, and then _moaning._

“Sssseeee? It feels good, doesn’t it? Just relax …”

Aziraphale did, but only just, hands still firmly on Crawly’s shoulders, preventing him from stealing another kiss. The demon experimented with the speed and pressure of his finger until Aziraphale shuddered and let his head fall back on the soft grass. Crawly repeated what he had done to elicit that shudder, his fingers moving quick and slippery against the little nub, watching in wonder as Aziraphale’s thighs shook. His face screwed up and his mouth dropped open with a stuttering gasp and his sex pulsed hot and gushing against Crawly’s hand.

Crawly’s own sex, hot and rigid, twitched and he instinctivly reached down to squeeze it around the base. He shuffled forward on his knees, prodding his cockhead against Aziraphale’s drenched cunt, rubbing it up and down the slit.

Aziraphale’s eyes popped open.

“No!”

His hands were back against Crawly’s chest, pushing hard, his legs coming together as he tried to squirm away.

“Come on, Angel, just wait! It’ll feel so good, I know it!”

Crawly felt very warm, his eagerness to copulate going far beyond simply carrying out a temptation. He tried to pry Aziraphale’s legs apart, but the angel's hands were pushing more insistently, and then fists were beating against Crawly's chest, legs kicking against his own. Crawly didn’t have enough hands to still the flailing angel beneath him. He only needed a damn moment to just stick his cock inside. Once he did, Aziraphale would stop resisting, he was sure. The angel would love it.

Crawly frowned. With the assistance of a little demonic trick, a set of vines slithered down from the tree and wound tightly around Aziraphale’s wrists before pulling his arms above his head.

“Hey! Stop this at once, demon!” Aziraphale’s eyes flashed with fury, and he fruitlessly struggled in the bindings.

“Hush!” With Aziraphale’s arms bound, Crawly could more easily spread the angel’s fleshy thighs. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I promise.”

“It is _not_ fine! Get off of me!” He bucked and nearly threw Crawly off, but stubborn determination took over. Crawly was _so close_ and Azirpahale hadn’t even tried to smite him, so surely his protest was feigned. Perhaps he only wanted plausible deniability should Heaven disapprove.

“If you’ll just wait a minute -” Crawly grimaced and seated himself back between Aziraphale’s legs, lined up his erection and pushed it into the slick cunt in one hurried thrust.

 _Bliss._ Aziraphale’s body squeezed him so tightly. His hips began to move on their own accord, the desire to _rut_ overwhelming. He closed his eyes, jaw going slack from pleasure. It was so good. So perfect. So -

“Please stop,” Aziraphale whimpered softly.

Crawly’s hips stuttered and he opened his eyes to look at the angel. Aziraphale’s eyes were screwed shut, his face contorted in misery as he strained uselessly against the foliage bindings. “I’m sorry!” Aziraphale choked out. “Please! I’m so sorry!”

Why was he apologizing? Couldn’t he feel how good it felt?

“Angel … Aziraphale … it’s fine, it’s fine. He rubbed his hands down Aziraphale’s sides, gentling him. Doesn’t it feel good? You feel so good to me.”

Aziraphale didn’t open his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry …” he kept repeating it like a mantra.

Finally, Crawly couldn’t bear it any longer and covered Aziraphale’s mouth with his hand, the angel’s whimpering breath hot and moist against his palm. Crawly frowned. This was starting to feel a whole lot less like a temptation and far more like a …a … _rape._ His mind provided the word, coming to him suddenly, unbidden and dirty. It brought a painful jolt to his chest. No, _no_! That couldn’t be right. It wasn’t _that._ The angel would start liking it any minute. He _would._

Crawly shook his head and let his instincts dominate, thrusting in and out, the delightful, fuzzy pleasure growing. He ignored the fear smell tainting the angel’s scent, surprised that he could already discern a difference. They’d only just met, after all.

 _Come on, Angel, come on. Just relax and enjoy it! Why are you being so stubborn when it feels so good?_ And it did. He couldn’t dream of stopping. The physical urge to _fuck_ was nearly irresistable at this point. He understood now why Adam and Eve never seemed to stop once they’d gotten started. He tamped down the sourness mingling with pleasure in his gut, the feelings of _concern_ that a demon really shouldn’t be capable of feeling at all, damn it.

It didn’t take long before his pleasure spiked into a highly satisfying paroxysm, making him grunt and shudder through it, eyes rolling back in his head. Crawly’s hand came away from Aziraphale’s mouth surprisingly wet, and he realized it was the angel’s tears. He scowled, trying to force himself to feel angry, indignant. If the angel hadn’t enjoyed himself, then why didn’t he use his powers to escape?

Crawly released the vines with a snap, and Aziraphale curled up on his side, wrapping his arms around his body, shivering and sniffling for several moments. Crawly stared at him awkwardly, mouth opening to speak, and then snapping closed when he couldn’t come up with anything. His chest _hurt_. He felt almost sick. Adam and Even always embraced afterward, giggling and kissing. This was all wrong.

With what looked like a great deal of effort, Aziraphale finally pushed himself up, wrenching his robe back down. He wiped at his face, and it settled into a stony expression.

“Well,” Crawly said, unable to bear the silence any longer, feeling overly nervous, jittery even. “I can see why the humans enjoy that so much.” He forced out an awkward, miserable chuckle.

“Hmm.” Aziraphale made a noncommittal sound, lips thin, not making eye contact. “Well, ah, thank you for the pineapple, but I really ought to be going. Goodbye.”

“‘Bye,” Crawly murmured in response to the angel’s back as he stalked away, the sour painful twisting in his gut unbearable.

* * *

Crawly sat on the garden wall staring out into the night sky. The humans were long gone, and Aziraphale had probably followed them. Crawly had never felt quite like such a _snake_. Low, slithery, disgusting. An evil, wretched demon. He’d thought himself clever, elegant, pleased as punch to be hand selected and sent to earth. But he was no better than an incubus, worse than Popobawa. He just couldn’t leave well enough alone. He’d gotten too greedy. The angel had been kind, innocent. Crawly desperately wanted to just slither back to Hell, but he had a job to do. There would soon be many, many more humans to tempt. If Crawly was lucky, he’d never even see Aziraphale again.

* * *

Crawly was _not_ lucky. Aziraphale just kept turning up like a bad penny. Or a good penny, more like. Crawly really should have seen it coming, considering the nature of their jobs. At first, Crawly was overly friendly, all smiles and politeness. It was painfully awkward. He later tried being colder, but it just made him feel like an arsehole. He tried being strictly professional, but he’d never been very good at that.

He tried changing his gender. His hair. His name. _Crowley._ A fresh, new start. No longer a snake (of course, deep down inside he would never be anything more than a slithery vermin at Aziraphale’s feet.) Nothing ever helped. The guilt never abated.

Crowley finally settled into the role of supplicant, forever worshiping at the temple Aziraphale. He was careful, kind, always willing to lend a favor, to help, to gift, to rescue. His guilt remained, but it was the least he could do. Sometimes he’d manage to quash down the guilt and try to forget it, but then some little thing would remind him, and he’d find himself back at the bottom of a bottle, deep in a miserable snakehole of his own making.

Time was supposed to heal all, but though they had an infinite amount of it, Crowley found that to be a lie. Time did not heal. Time did not help. Time only made him feel worse, because the more time he spent running into Aziraphale, the more time he spent providing meals, doing favors, giving gifts, the more he fell in love, and the more he knew that love could never, ever be returned. Not only because they were hereditary enemies, but because he’d gone and pegged himself the villain from the get-go. He didn’t deserve Aziraphale’s radiant love. It was enough to give the angel all he could, play the favors game, and merely be near him, to savor his angelic resplendence.

Aziraphale always held back, though, keeping Crowley at arm’s length. _Of course. What d’you expect?_ There were, however, those precious moments when Aziraphale’s face would light up with pleasure to see Crowley, and the demon’s heart would crack painfully at how undeserved it was. But then Aziraphale would remember himself and throw those walls firmly back up. _He’s not my friend!_

They never made physical contact again.

So Crowley offered divine (or rather demonic) service to Aziraphale. His own brand of penance, determined to atone, knowing that he never truly could.

Crowley also vowed to never again directly harm another being. He became committed to indirect mischief, encouraging humans to sow their own seeds of evil and destruction. But he refused to get his own hands dirty with it. Never again.

* * *

Crowley could not figure out why Aziraphale was reluctant to give him the holy water. Was he still that angry about that day in the Garden? (He should be.) But shouldn’t he want Crowley dead for it? (Of course he should.) It just didn’t make sense.

And then Aziraphale _did_ give him the holy water, relenting reluctantly before Crowley could carry out his hairbrained scheme. And briefly, Crowley imagined that maybe, just maybe -

 _You go too fast for me._ A twist of the knife, deep into his heart. _You deserve this pain, demon._ He’d forgotten himself, gotten greedy again, desperately asking Aziraphale to be with him ( _you lecherous, disgusting monster, you snake_.) How could he even imagine that Aziraphale would want to share his company more than was professionally necessary? Of course Crowley was going too fast. _Again._ He deserved absolutely _nothing_ (aside from a holy water bath.)

* * *

Crowley blamed the stress of Apocalypse looming for laying hands on Aziraphale _yet again_ after all those years. It was in the former convent while they were desperately searching for the Antichrist. _I’ve always said, that deep down you really are quite a nice -_ Crowley lost it. How could Aziraphale think Crowley was _nice_ after what he’d done? He pinned Aziraphale to the wall, snarling, hoping to remind the angel just how _not nice_ he really was.

But Aziraphale was barely fazed, evidently not at all frightened of the demon who had raped him six thousand years prior. Crowley should have been relieved, but he only felt miserable for being so rough with the angel after he’d sworn to himself that he'd never do anything like that again. He truly was a monster.

* * *

_I forgive you._

The words were like an arrow to his heart. _No, Angel, don’t, don’t, don’t! You mustn’t._

He was unforgivable. _Don’t forgive me. Not ever, Angel. Please. Just let me bask in your presence and continue to apologize to you for the rest of eternity._

But eternity wasn’t supposed to last. The world was going to end. But then _it didn’t_. Even so, they were likely going to be destroyed by their respective sides, and Aziraphale was so, so distraught about it, shockingly more worried about what would happen to Crowley than himself. Fretting over holy water and other potential means of demon destruction.

Finally, Crowley could stand it no longer and blurt out, “Why!? Why do you care what happens to me? Worry about yourself. You should hate me, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale gaped at him. “What?” he hissed, face contorting and looking at Crowley like he was a moron. He shook his head. “I _love_ you. You idiot! Haven’t you … I mean, didn’t you realize? After all this time?”

“ _Love_?! Don’t be ridiculousssss!” Crowley hissed (quite literally) back at him. “You hate me! You must! After I … I ... after what I did!”

Aziraphale had the audacity to look _confused._ “What on earth do you mean, dear boy? What did you do?”

Crowley put his face in his hands and groaned. Was Aziraphale putting him on? “I … I forced myself on you. I pushed you down, used magic to tie you up. It was awful. It was … was …” he could feel the tears welling in his eyes, “ _rape!_ I don’t know why you ever even spoke to me again!” _Oh, but thank God, thank Satan, thank Somebody that you did._

“Oh, _that_ ,” Aziraphale said, sighing and looking very strange, completely unreadable. “In the garden, you mean. Crowley, are you still worried about _that_?”

“Am I still … what do you … _of course I am!_ ”

“That was six thousand years ago,” Aziraphale said, as if that made any difference. He sat quietly for several moments while Crowley stared at him, belly roiling with nerves. “Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry we’ve never spoken of it. We should have, really.”

“Not your fault, Angel,” Crowley said quickly, wiping at his eyes, the damn tears not listening to his pleas to stay put.

“I’ve long since forgiven you,” Aziraphale continued, putting his hands up to stop Crowley’s automatic interruption. “Yes, I’ll admit I was upset and angry for a long while, but we just kept running into each other. I was nervous, hesitant, distrustful at first, but I couldn’t make a fuss about it. I had a job to do, and I was … terribly embarrassed. I was an angel and I let my guard down on the tree, I gave away my sword, I lied to the Almighty, and then I let a demon tempt me. At the time I justified that maybe I deserved it all. That’s why I didn’t really fight you. Penance for everything that had gone wrong.”

Crowley shook his head vehemently “No, no, no, you didn’t deserve it! It wasn’t your fault at all. It was all me. My fault. I was an idiot. A brand new, cocksure, _foolish_ demon in over my head, and you should have smited - smote - _killed_ me where I stood. Why didn’t you, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed. “I felt so foolish. I’d given away my sword, so I was already in trouble Upstairs, and then I was ... ” he blushed, “ _f_ _ornicating_ with a demon. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to it. I was worried for ages that I might fall.”

“Rape isn’t fornicating. It doesn’t count. It just doesn’t. Heaven would have been wrong to blame you for it.” Crowley chewed on his bottom lip. “You should have just stayed angry with me. Forever.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his.

“Hush, now. I’ll admit a part of me certainly wanted to. I was on tenterhooks every time we met at first. I kept waiting for you to do something evil, something horrid.” Crowley winced. “I planned to smite you if you did, to be honest. But I never needed to. You were nothing but kind to me. Gentle, sweet. Over time, I grew to love you, despite what you had done. I couldn’t help myself.”

He leaned forward and hesitantly brushed his lips against Crowley’s. Crowley stayed perfectly still, waiting, letting Aziraphale feel things out, to deepen the kiss, to make the first breach with his tongue. The taste of Aziraphale sent memories rushing through Crowley’s head, and it was nearly his undoing. He sagged with a whimper, but Aziraphale clutched at him, embraced him. Crowley apologized again and again with gentle, tender brushes of his fingers, his lips, his tongue. It was everything he’d wanted so desperately since he’d gotten it all wrong that first time, and the sensations threatened to overwhelm. His head spun, his chest tightened, tears pricked at his eyes until he finally let out a little broken sob.

“I wish so badly that it hadn’t happened,” he said, voice thick. “I wish that hadn’t been our first time.”

Aziraphale brushed away his tears. This was all wrong, Crowley should be comforting _him_ , not the other way around. But it felt so good, so right to give into it, to be at peace. _Finally._ After all those years.

“It wasn’t _really_ ,” Aziraphale said. “That was a lifetime ago. You were called Crawly then, and you were a brand new demon sent to cause trouble. I was still of the Cherubim, a young, inexperienced angel. We’ve changed. We aren’t like humans with their fleeting lives. Six thousand years has been more than enough time for me to forgive you, my dear. You’ve transformed into a demon who is far too nice, and I’ve become a loafer of a principality. We’re Crowley and Aziraphale now, and we’re on our own side, right?” Aziraphale blushed and gave Crowely a very intense look. “Our next time can be our _true_ first time. That is ... if you’d like for there to be a next time?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully, giving Crowley that puppy dog face he'd do anything for.

Crowley nodded so eagerly he felt like a bobblehead. He went speechless with disbelief, heart hesitantly soaring at the turn this evening had taken. His chest felt like it was cracking open, the poison that had been infecting him for millennia finally seeping out and flowing away.

“But first,” Aziraphale said seriously, “we have to survive tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

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